The fog wrapped around Lucius like a wet shroud as he ran, every footstep tentative on the slick cobblestones. His chest heaved, his lungs screamed, and the revolver in his hand felt heavier than ever. I can't die here. Not like this. Not now.
Ahead, through the mist, he thought he saw a building ruined, sagging, decayed but it stirred something deep in him. A memory flickered, hazy and half-forgotten: a sunlit garden, laughter echoing through clean halls, flowers blooming in neat rows. Kael Morty's house… it was like this once.
The front door groaned as he pushed it open. Inside, dust choked the air, mixing with the smell of rot and mildew. Broken furniture littered the floor. His boots crunched on shards of glass. So this is what's left… His voice sounded foreign in the empty space.
A door at the far end of the hallway whispered to him, but when he stepped closer, voices swirled in his mind. Soft at first, then pounding, relentless whispers lashing at his skull. What is this? What do they want from me? His knees buckled. The revolver trembled in his hand. Maybe… maybe this is the only way…
A scream shattered his thoughts. Lucius whipped around. Two men, hooded, dragging a young girl between them. No… I can't let this happen. Fear rose in his throat, but he forced himself to think. I have to be smart. I can't just charge in.
He ducked behind an overturned cabinet, peeking at their movements. His mind raced: Candles on the floor… the window maybe I can use it… if I move slowly… Step by careful step, he positioned himself, ready to spring a trap.
But the cultists noticed him. Chaos erupted. They struck him down, binding him with rough ropes. The knife glinted inches from his chest. So close… so close… Pain flared through his body, and the whispers returned, pounding, gnawing at his sanity.
A crash shattered the window. Rain and moonlight poured into the room. Three figures leapt inside: John Gary, red hair wild, eyes like steel; Kim, dark velvet hair, gaze sharp as a blade; and Rose, quiet but deadly, carrying herself with lethal grace.
"Step back!" John Gary's voice rang through the room.
Kim's eyes narrowed, a strange calm settling over him. He recited softly, then louder, words flowing like a dark melody:
"Moonlight rises, silver and cold,
Wrap the night in a tale untold.
Crimson petals, flames alight,
Judgment blooms to end the fight."
The room shifted. The monsters convulsed as petals of glowing crimson erupted around them, wrapping in flames that hissed and spat. Vines of glowing flowers lashed out, binding the creatures, dissolving them into nothingness.
Lucius watched, jaw slack. What… what is happening? He barely had time to register the sight before another mutated cultist lunged at him.
John Gary moved with terrifying precision. His voice was calm, each word deliberate, each syllable shaping the flames around him:
"Blue fire rise, cold as the void,
Burn the darkness, leave it destroyed."
Blue flames shot forward, engulfing the creature in a scream that rattled the walls. The room stank of burnt flesh and ash.
Rose scooped up the girl, her voice calm. "We're taking her. Stay close, or don't follow at all."
John Gary's eyes flicked to Lucius. "You're alive. That counts. But survive, and maybe one day you'll understand what just happened."
Kim gave him a curt nod, voice quieter but sharp. "Follow us. There's more you need to see. More you need to understand."
Night fell over the organization's compound. Lucius lay in a small, sparsely furnished room. His body ached, but it was nothing compared to his mind. The events of the ruined house replayed endlessly.
In dreams, he relived moments differently. One dream, he lifted the revolver to his head; his reflection smiled back at him, mocking and alien. Another, the girl's eyes glowed crimson, staring through him. Every whisper, every scream, every shadow played in surreal variations until sweat soaked his clothes and his heart felt ready to burst.
He woke with a shudder, the scent of rain and faint smoke lingering in the air. His chest rose and fell rapidly, but he drew in a slow, steadying breath. I survived. Somehow… I survived.
The world was cruel. Terrifying. And alive. But he was still here. And if he could survive tonight, maybe tomorrow maybe he could survive even more.